Deviance
by Laurensdy
Summary: The BAU heads to Rochester, NY for a series of suspicious murders. Reid/OC
1. Chapter 1

"If a bullet should pass through my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door." –Harvey Milk

"The snow's clear enough for us to go in for a landing," Hotch announced. "The captain's gonna bring us down in about ten minutes."

"To the hotel?" Morgan asked with a smirk.

"No," Rossi uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "We have to head straight to the nightclub—for all we know, another abduction's taken place."

"Highly unlikely," Reid chimed in, flipping the sheets in his manila folder. "The disappearances all occurred when the club was at a high-traffic business hour."

"When there was plenty of victims to choose from," Morgan finished.

"Exactly," Reid continued, not raising his gaze from the papers. "The first and second abductions were roughly twenty-four hours apart, on a Friday and Saturday night, respectively. This last one didn't occur until at least the following Thursday."

"I don't get why the owner didn't tell anyone about the first abduction when it happened," Prentiss engaged.

"Bad for business," Hotch offered.

"It's unlikely the owner knew about it," Reid continued, "the victims were taken from a crowded club; bodies didn't show up until a few days later. Chances are the first two weren't found until last night, when they called."

"Taken in their own cars?" JJ confirmed.

"So the UnSub walked," Morgan noted.

"Or we're looking for a duo," Rossi offered. "Victimology?"

"Preston Mitchell, aged 27, found in the dumpster, blunt-force trauma to the head," Prentiss opened her own manila folder. "Clerk at Eastman-Kodak."

"That place is still around?" Morgan scoffed.

"More than still around," Reid flipped another sheet, "the company made some huge cuts but still made 7.6 billion dollars in 2009." He looked up. "They still employ around twenty-thousand people."

Morgan stared at Reid. "How…_exactly_…do you do that?"

"Edward Owen, 29, also found in the dumpster, autopsy puts him at being dead approximately 32 hours after Mitchell…also blunt-force trauma," Prentiss continued, "also a clerk that managed to stay at Kodak."

"Sounds personal. Beef with someone who didn't make the cut?" Morgan offered.

"Not exactly," Prentiss stepped over to Reid and dropped her folder on the table in front of him. "Thomas Defoe, 24, graduate student at the Rochester Institute of Technology."

"So the target is white male, mid to late twenties," JJ summarized.

"Doesn't exactly narrow it down," Rossi said.

"I think I can," Reid offered. The team looked over expectantly.

"None of these men had marital records or children—and the abductions all occurred at Rumors Nightclub—assuming the victims were all patrons at the club—"

"Bachelors?" Morgan confirmed. "Doesn't exactly shorten the list, Kid."

Reid shook his head. "Rumors Nightclub's been voted three times as the best gay bar in Rochester."

"That's short enough," Hotch concluded. "We're going down."


	2. Chapter 2

"I didn't know anyone was gone, had been taken," the owner—Bill—explained during Rossi, Hotch and Prentiss' tour. "Angela went to take the garbage out and…and there they were."

"Do you remember anyone abnormal who was in the club on the nights of the abductions?" Prentiss asked.  
"No offense, guys, but we get a lot of…'abnormal' people in here." Bill shoved his hands in his pockets, frustrated.

"This person would have been extremely uncomfortable with the others here," Hotch offered, "very homophobic."

Bill searched his memory. "Couldn't tell you. We move a lot of bodies in and out of here." He looked around. "Live ones, I mean."

"What's the primary demographic here?" Prentiss inquired.

"College kids."

"Like Thomas Defoe?" Hotch asked.

"Younger," Bill corrected. "Most of the kids in here aren't old enough to order drinks."

"Bartenders didn't see a thing," Morgan appeared.

"No, they wouldn't have," Rossi explained. "Our UnSub wouldn't feel comfortable drinking at a gay bar."

"The drag queens were certainly a big help," JJ said, herself and Reid also reappearing.

"What have you got?" Hotch asked.

"Thomas Defoe, the victim still missing?" Reid began.

"The RIT student," Morgan offered.

"He wasn't gay," Reid continued, nodding. "He was transgender."

"What does that even mean?" Prentiss asked.

"Well, whereas gay men are attracted to other men," JJ began.

"—Transgender men are born female, and actually switch genders," Reid finished. "They take shots of testosterone to grow facial hair and deepen their voices."

"So Defoe was straight?" Morgan asked.

"Actually, there's a good chance he was trans _and_ gay," said an unknown voice from behind them.

"Who are you?" Hotch asked, the team whipping around.

"I'm a college kid who goes here a lot. I came to talk to Bill…after I heard." She was late teens, early twenties, probably. She had thick legs, brown curly hair, and her hands in her jean pockets. "My name's Lorelei."

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, with the FBI."

"So it's true," Lorelei looked around. "What about the RIT kid?"

"How do you know about all this?" inquired Rossi, stepping forward to stand next to Hotch.

"Gays talk. People listen."

"What did you mean, he could have been both?" asked Prentiss, also stepping forward. "About Tom Defoe?"

"Are you guys all with the FBI?" the girl asked, stepping backward.

"Yes," Prentiss confirmed.

"They didn't teach you about LGBT stuff at the Bureau?"

"It's not exactly a topic of interest, no," Prentiss admitted.

"We're wasting time all staying here," Hotch intervened. "All we know is that the UnSub isn't limited exclusively to gay men. Morgan, you and JJ go out to the other spots where gay people frequent. Prentiss, you and Rossi head over to RIT—interview anyone who was with Defoe Thursday night. Reid and I will stay here."

"Hotch," Morgan called, "where exactly do gays frequent?"

"Try Equal Grounds on South Ave," Lorelei offered. "It's a coffeehouse."

Hotch and Morgan glanced at her. "Thanks."

"No problem," Lorelei shifted her weight. "Find him."

Morgan and JJ stole out of the bar. Hotch stepped toward Lorelei again. "Listen, we need to know as much about these types of victims as possible."

"You mean, LGBT people?" Lorelei clarified.

"Sure," Hotch said, motioning to his right. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid. Would you mind talking with him for a few minutes?" Lorelei shrugged, taking a seat on a barstool. Moments later, Reid did, too.

"You don't have to call me Doctor," he said, laying his messenger bag on the bar. "You can, just call me Spencer."

"I'm probably not going to be much help," the girl began, placing her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. "I never met any of these people. I just came to talk to Bill, to see if it was true." She looked over at the wall display of alcohol. "I go to Naz. People think we're in danger."

"Who's we?" Reid leaned forward.

"The LGBT teens, youth, here." She paused, and then answered his questioning gaze. "Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender—LGBT."

"How could Thomas Defoe have been both gay and transgender?"

"Because they're separate." Lorelei swiveled her chair to face Reid directly. "There's three components to human sexuality."

Reid shifted his weight uncomfortably as the girl pointed at his groin. "First, there's what's between your legs. Your sex—whether it's correct or not. Then," she pointed at his forehead, "There's what's between your ears—what you see yourself as—male, female, whatever."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Lastly, there's what's between _each other_, what we exhibit through behavior. _That's_ the part that makes you gay or straight. _Trans_ people are more focused in here," she tapped her temple. "The thing about that is that you can have more than one issue."

"So your only issue is the 'between each other' part," Reid clarified.

Lorelei cocked her head, crinkled her eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, I mean, the," Reid scratched the back of his neck, cleared his throat, "you're just—"

"You think I'm gay," she offered.

Reid sat up straighter. "Well, you are, aren't you?"

She laughed. "No."

Reid shifted uncomfortably again. "Oh—I'm so sorry, I just assumed that—well, this bar, and you kept saying 'we,' I'm sorry—"

"It's fine. I'm in this fight just as much as everybody else," Lorelei nodded, "but I don't have to fight for _myself_. I'm typically called a straight ally…I fight for LGBT rights even though I don't have to."

"Why? You're kind of putting yourself in danger for people who don't even really know you."

"What do you call yourself?" she asked, sitting up straighter. "Isn't that what you do, too?"

"I catch murderers," he clarified.

"Well then," she leaned back, "don't talk to _me_ about dangerous hobbies." He chuckled, and she smiled at him.

"You mentioned Naz—do you mean Nazareth College?"

"That's the one."

"How does a Catholic school handle this kind of stuff?" Reid asked, leaning back.

"That's actually pretty simple—they're not Catholic anymore," she explained. Reid nodded, surprised. "Lambda—our GSA—is actually probably the busiest club on campus." She paused, then added, "Gay-straight alliance. Am I going too fast?"

Reid shook his head, smiling. "Who's in charge of this, Lambda? Maybe they could contact the other college organizations."

"I am."

Reid crinkled his eyebrows. "You? You said you were straight."

She laughed. "I am."

"So, how—"

"We did this thing where we just picked the best person for the job, regardless of who they sleep with."

He nodded, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

"And I already talked to the other schools," she continued. "That's why I'm here. We sent in an ally because gay guys run the other GSAs. They're too scared to even go to the bathroom."

"Do you know where to help us find people who had issues with gay—LGBT people in general?"

She thought, biting her lower lip. He leaned forward slightly, anticipating.

"I bet the GAGV Anti-Violence Project would show you their archives," she said quietly, looking over at him. "They run an anonymous hotline to try and stop this kind of stuff."

"Do you know where this, GA—"

"—it's the Gay Alliance of the Genesee Valley. It's huge." Reid opened his mouth again, "and yes, I know where it is."

He hopped off the chair. "Could you take me there?"

She grabbed her coat. "Sure, just follow the old tan Mercedes. It's out back."

"Hotch!" Reid called. "Got a possible source for info on the UnSub."

Hotch appeared out of the back room. "You go ahead. The PD is going to be here any second. We're going to stake out the place to see if he comes back."

Reid secured his messenger bag and looked over toward the back door, where Lorelei was staring out onto the loading dock. "Did anyone give you a proper greeting to winter in Rochester?"

"No," he laughed nervously. She responded by pushing open the heavy door, greeting them both with an icy gust.

"You get used to it," she sidestepped down the ramp. "Watch your footing; there isn't any here."

Reid walked slouching, trying to shield his face from the cold. He pulled his collar over his chin.

"How are you a doctor?" Lorelei asked. "You can't be older than twenty-five."

"I'm twenty-nine, actually," he said. "I graduated from high school at twelve."

"Twelve years old?" He nodded. "What are you, some kind of genius prodigy?"

He shrugged. "I liked to read when I was a kid. I have a really good memory."

"So do I, but that's pretty awesome," she said, clearly impressed. He started to blush, but turned his head down away from the wind.

"But you can't be more than eighteen, nineteen, right?"

"I'm twenty-one," she clarified. "Had my birthday a few days ago."

"Happy belated birthday," Reid said.

"Thanks. It'd be more festive if everyone wasn't so scared to go out…or if there was no reason to be scared." They walked with their heads bowed, hands shoved deep in their coat pockets.

Reid glanced up. "Which car is yours?"

"It's the '87 Benz—" Lorelei looked up. "Oh, oh my God."

Reid drew his gun instinctively, moving between Lorelei and her car.

"What are you gonna do with that?" she asked, looking at him frantically. The wind whipped her chocolate-brown hair about her face.

"He might still be here," Reid said, moving around the car slowly. "Stay behind me."

The windows were cracked, windshield shattered. A brick lay on top of the wiper blade, its purpose served. Each tire had an angry gash through the "Goodyear."

And across the doors and panels of the Mercedes, fat black spray paint was etched like a scar.

**The only things worse than the deviant sinners are those who enable them.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Get her out of here," Hotch said thickly. "We've got to lock this area down."

"That's what they want!" Lorelei countered. "For us all to stay at home in our closets!"

"Reid, get her out of here!" Hotch barked. "I'll get Garcia on the Gay Alliance."

Reid wheeled around. "We gotta go," he addressed her.

"Where the hell are we going?" she asked. "I don't have a car."

"We have cars," Reid answered calmly, stepping forward. "Lorelei, I know you're upset right now, but you really shouldn't be here. "

She wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lower lip. "Will you stay with me?"

His jaw dropped slightly. "I, uh," he glanced over at Hotch, who nodded.

"It's probably not a bad idea," Hotch said. "Whoever the UnSub is, he knows her car and that she's not gay. They might be following her."

Lorelei looked instinctively about herself, clutching her arms tighter. "Where are we going?"

"We can go wherever you'll feel safe," Reid said.

Lorelei paused, thinking. "Naz is safe."

Reid looked back at Hotch, who nodded again. They maneuvered through the snow to where the black SUV sat parked across the lot.

"Do you think there's a bomb in the car?" she asked, pulling the passenger-side door closed.

"No. The UnSub would have had the car look completely normal, so the blast would be unexpected." Reid closed the driver-side door. "I think vandalism was the extent of it."

She propped her feet on the dashboard, the purple low-top Converse sneakers revealing two mismatched socks. "Hey," he said, more to himself than to her.

"What?" she asked, looking over at him. "Feet off the dash?"

"No, no," he said, pulling his long legs from underneath the steering wheel column and tugging his pant legs up. "I mismatch my socks, too."

She smiled. He smiled back.

He turned the key and slid the shifter into Drive. "Which way to Naz?"

"Turn right out of here," she muttered, looking around the car. "Doesn't this thing have a radio?"

"Police scanner—a bit different."

"All this money, you'd think we could listen to music." She stared out the window. "Go north on this highway."

Awkward silence built in the car. Reid cleared his throat. "So, um, what are you studying at school?"

She swiveled her head around to face him. "Communication and Rhetoric." She blinked a few times, adding, "I'm actually in a class right now called 'How to detect crappy small talk.'"

He laughed nervously, tightening his grip on the wheel.

"I don't know how you guys do it," she leaned forward, turning the heat down. "This job."

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"Don't gimme that," she muttered, pushing up her shirtsleeves. "How many people have tried to kill you?"

He laughed, and then actually thought about it. "I don't know."

Glancing over, Reid noticed all the scars on the insides of Lorelei's arms. The tiny white lines were barely noticeable, two years old, probably. But Reid didn't miss anything.

"How many people have tried to kill you?" he asked.

She looked at him, confused. His serious expression caused her to stop, pause, and think about it. "One," she finally said thickly, pulling her shirtsleeves back down.

Reid's cell phone buzzed. Flipping it open, he answered.

"Hotch? Oh. Yeah. I thought they might've." There was a brief pause. Reid glanced at his passenger. "Yeah, she's fine. We're almost there." Another pause. "Ask her to look specifically at religion-based hate groups, possibly with stalking complaints. Yeah. Bye."

The car was silent for a moment. "They found Thomas," Lorelei said solemnly.

"How did you know that?"

She shrugged.

"This might sound weird," he began, "but you're incredibly hard to figure out."

She laughed. "I've only heard that since the fifth grade. This is your exit."

He signaled and changed lanes. "I mean, I profile people for a living, and you—"

"I've stumped you," she smiled. "Turn right."

She tapped her foot on the dashboard. "That's an accomplishment. I stumped the genius."

He shook his head, smiling. "Can I turn in here?"

"Go ahead. I mean, you can just drop me off up there—"

Instead, Reid pulled into the parking lot. "I should probably stay…just to make sure you're safe."

"I'm flattered," she unbuckled herself, "but I can protect myself." She opened the door. "Besides, you should be off doing important stuff."

"Keeping an eye on you is important stuff."

"If you say so," she shook her head.

He shut the driver-side door. "I do."

They walked to the main dorm building, a stately brick three-story. Outside, another student was smoking a cigarette. He called out Lorelei's name.

Read leaned over to speak quietly into her ear. "Tell him I'm a friend."

"Lie?" she asked, look at him with wide brown eyes. "People are in danger."

"They'll be in more danger if they panic," he said lowly. "Lie."

"Hey, Pat," she called as they approached the smoker. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really," he took a drag. "I heard they found the RIT kid."

Lorelei nodded. "I—we actually just came from Rumors."

He looked into her eyes. "Did you talk to Bill?"

Lorelei glanced quickly at Reid, then shook her head. "No, there were cops everywhere."

Marshall nodded, taking one last drag and flicking the butt into the snow.

"Six minutes," Reid said quietly.

"What?" asked Marshall.

"Each cigarette takes six minutes off your life," he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Each time my mom lit a cigarette, I would say 'six minutes,' to try and get her to quit."

Marshall looked at Lorelei. "Who's your friend?"

"He's, um, Spencer," she said, glancing at Reid and then back to Marshall. "We met when I was out for my birthday."

Marshall nodded, looking Reid up and down. "It's kinda windy out here," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Better put some rocks in your pockets—just to be safe."

Reid laughed nervously, rocking back and forth again. "Nice to meet you."

"I'll see you later, Marshall," said Lorelei, moving toward the door.

She took out her keys and turned right down the hall. "It's actually eleven."

"Eleven what?" asked Reid, jogging to catch up.

"Minutes," she unlocked the door. "Each cigarette takes eleven minutes off your life, not six."

Reid stopped, concentrating.

"Look it up if you don't believe me," she invited him in, taking a seat on the bed and motioning to her laptop.

"I will." He pulled up her desk chair and entered a web address.

After a few minutes, he gave up. "It is eleven." He dropped his hands into his lap and looked at her. "I can't remember the last time that happened."

"Another feat!" she smiled, leaning back against the wall.

He looked around her dorm room, resting his elbow on the desk. Reid was used to scanning his surroundings for clues, but so many messages presented themselves: a rainbow flag, framed photos of cats, Gandhi quotes, a Civil War calendar and the famous War's End Kiss photograph, a dreamcatcher and a poster of Sweeney Todd. A specific martial arts insignia was centered over the headboard and the Central Park IMAGINE tribute to John Lennon hung on the wall by the desk. "This room only makes understanding you more complicated."

"Don't try to understand me," she kicked her shoes off. "Sometimes I don't even bother."

"What is your relationship with Marshall—the guy outside?"

She brought her knees in close, resting her elbows on them. "I don't know…just a friend, why?"

"I think he likes you."

She rolled her eyes. "Please."

"No, the way he tried to emasculate me," he stared into space, concentrating, "shows his desire to prove to you that he's above me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is this what you do all day?" He nodded, his chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes. "What does my behavior suggest?"

He stared at her. "I don't know." He looked around the room. "You're sending me more than one signal."

"Which one is winning?"

He looked back at her. "It keeps changing."

She dropped her knees, sitting cross-legged. "I kinda like that. I mean, I must be pretty awesome to elude the genius."

He stared hard into her eyes, growing more frustrated by the second. Reid had never met a person he couldn't predict, couldn't figure out. The fact that it was a college girl who wasn't trying to hide a thing didn't help.

He had a thought, and immediately decided not to voice it. But before he could stop himself, Reid heard his own voice.

"You have very beautiful eyes."

She blinked, raising her eyebrows innocently. "They're the same color as yours."

A few moments passed. They stared at each other in silence, but it wasn't awkward like it had been in the car.

Her question came in a whisper. "Have you ever been involved with someone you were supposed to be protecting?"

Reid gulped. "Well, uh, actually…she kissed me first."

Lorelei smiled. "Was she pretty?"

Reid gulped again, wiping his palms on his pant legs. "Ye-yeah, she was very pretty."

"What'd she look like?"

He gripped the back of his neck with one hand. "She, uh, she had blonde hair, soft skin. She was an actress in Los Angeles."

Lorelei nodded, looking away from Reid's eyes. "I bet she's a lot prettier than me."

Reid opened his mouth to respond, but he felt his phone buzzing.


	4. Chapter 4

Reid opened his mouth to respond, but he felt his phone buzzing.

"Reid."

"Hello, Genius," answered a bubbly soprano on the other end.

"What've you got, Garcia?"

"A bit. The GAGV noted they've been getting an upsurge of religious threats over the last few months."

"Any specifically threatening incidents?"

"Way ahead of you, baby. Three weeks age there were two separate complaints from the nightclub that people had had biblical verses written on their cars in shoe polish." Garcia typed something. "Leviticus."

Reid's heart rate quickened. "Leviticus 20:13," he recited, "and if a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, they have done what is detestable, and they both shall be put to death."

"That's the one," Garcia quipped. Reid glanced at Lorelei. Her eyes were wide, and her face was slack. "There was a similar complaint two weeks ago—from RIT. Same scenario, referencing Sodom and Gamorrah."

"Any more recently?"

Garcia waited a moment, bracing. "Three. Two from five days ago at the University of Rochester, and one today…at the, uh, nightclub."

Reid looked at Lorelei again, his mouth slightly open. "What about the other two?"

"Morgan and JJ did some digging when the news broke. The cars belonged to a gay couple. Nobody's seen them since last night…when they went out. Prentiss and Rossi are hunting down everyone who's seen them in the last week."

Reid closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his temple. "The vandalism to the cars seems to symbolize a warning. And it's getting more violent, more serious. The UnSub would have been trying to warn the public before going that far, letting everyone know that they will reap what they sow."

"Sounds like something Morgan mentioned."

"I'll give him a call. Thanks, Garcia."

"No problem, Brainiac."

He snapped the phone closed, still massaging his temple.

"Does this mean I've been warned?" Lorelei asked, sounding annoyed.

Reid pursed his lips. "I, uh, I've gotta make a call."

Lorelei sighed and pushed herself off the bed, sweeping her hair out of her face with her hands. "I'm going to shower."

Reid nodded, punching Morgan's speed dial with his bony thumb.

"Morgan here," answered a gruff voice.

"Just talked to Garcia. She said you might have found some kind of non-threatening religious warning."

"Yeah. A radical Baptist sect was handing out pamphlets about six months ago, citing all the reasons why they'll burn in hell for being who they are."

Reid looked over at Lorelei, who was letting her hair down and shaking it loose. Reid swallowed and felt his heart rate pick up again.

"Any names or photos?"

"Not really," Morgan answered, "Mostly everybody said they wore cowboy hats and had a bunch of American flags. They carried them upside down, though."

Lorelei peeled her shirt off and tossed it into the hamper. Reid coughed, trying to clear his throat and doubling over, his eyes widening. "Don't worry," she said, shaking her head. "I do this in front of my friends all the time." Her bra was satin, and black.

"You okay, Kid?" Morgan interjected.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Reid gulped again. "They sound Southern—anti government, politically as well as religiously oriented."

Lorelei stood up." Who does?"

Reid looked at her and quickly averted his eyes. She took a step toward him. "Oh relax," she commanded, putting her hands on her hips. "It sounds like the Westboro Baptist Church."

Reid turned back to her, taking care to look at her face, and stood up. "Who?"

"It's a family from Kansas—the Phelps family. They run a whole bunch of websites, like ."

"Morgan," Reid said into the phone, "Look up anyone who's involved with the Westboro Baptist Church. See if the Phelps' had any ties to the city."

"You got it, Kid."

Lorelei walked across the room. "Do you mind if I put on music?" she asked over her shoulder. When Reid shook his head, she smiled and dropped her jeans.

Reid looked away, letting out an aggravated whoosh of air. "Oh, calm down," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure your LA actress is a hundred times hotter than I'll ever be."

"Morgan?" Reid asked after Lorelei had gone in the bathroom, leaving her pants in a pile on the floor.

"What is it?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "This girl—Lorelei—she's, she's something else."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, she's been a big help. Not bad-looking, either."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, well, she's no Lila, Pretty Boy."

"No…she's, she's impossible to figure out. And she corrected me."

"Someone knew something you didn't?"

"It's actually eleven minutes that each cigarette takes off your life," Reid admitted.

"I thought it was six."

"Morgan, she's…" he closed his eyes, hearing the music. "She's playing Bob Dylan."

"So?"

"While she's…_in the shower_, Morgan."

There was a pause. "Oh." Morgan breathed in, and then let it out. "I know what you're thinking."

"What would you do?"

Morgan laughed. "What wouldn't I do? Young college girl takes her clothes off in front of me and then heads for the shower? Go get 'em, Lover."

"Shut up, I never said she took…" Reid trailed off. He could hear Morgan laughing, could feel the heat in his cheeks. "Morgan, I'm serious."

"So am I. Like I told you once before, there are some things you just can't control, Pretty Boy. Even with that big ol' brain of yours."

"But we have rules."

"The rules say what you should or shouldn't do, Kid. Only you can decide what you will or won't do."

The call ended.


	5. Chapter 5

Reid had to knock twice before he got an answer because the music was so loud.

"'Sup?" came Lorelei's voice from inside.

"Can I come in?"

The door opened. "What?" Lorelei called, exposing her head and holding the door with a soaked arm.

Startled, Reid jumped back. "I—I said, can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," she stood up, withdrawing the arm.

The small bathroom was filled with steam and the sound of Bob Dylan. Reid cleared his throat just as "I Want You" started to play on the iHome.

"What's up?" she asked, her head hovering around the plastic curtain. "Something wrong?"

"No, no," he asked, looking away. "I, just, I wanted to…"

He rocked back on his heels. "There's something about you."

"There's something about you, too," she replied, pushing a wet lock out of her face. "But you—you're important."

"What do you mean?"

"You work for the FBI. You catch bad people." She rolled her eyes, disappearing behind the curtain. "Just forget it. Never mind, I'm sorry. I just thought…"

"You thought what?" he asked, squinting.

Her head reappeared. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. She bit her lower lip and looked off to the side.

"I won't kiss you first," she said finally. "I want to know it's just as much you as it is me."

He rocked back on his heels, pursing his lips. He opened his mouth, closed it, and gulped.

She closed her eyes, sighed, and reopened them. "I'm sorry." Shaking her head, she ducked behind the curtain.

…_**it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you…**_

Reid gritted his teeth and stepped toward the curtain. "Lorelei."

"What?" she called, not showing her face, "I just thought—"

"Lorelei," he repeated, loud and serious.

"What?" she called again irritably, still not appearing.

"Lorelei."

She pulled the curtain back. "What is your—?"

Her voice cut off as he brought her lips against his own. His eyes closed, and he felt her hand, warm and wet upon his shoulder, soaking his button-down shirt.

He slid his right hand through her wet hair, cupping her cheek with his left. He felt the stream of the shower of his head, water running like rain down his face and neck.

Then she was withdrawing, pulling away. "We can't do this."

He removed his head from the shower before he opened his chocolate-brown eyes. The top of his shirt was soaked, the dampness slowly going from warm to cold.

"I'm sorry," came her voice from inside the shower. "I shouldn't have done that. You have rules."

He swept his hair out of his face. "The—the rules say what we should or shouldn't do." He gulped. "Only—only we can decide what we will or won't do."

She drew the curtain back. Her eyes, the lashes wet, seemed to glisten.

…_**I want you…I want you…I want you, so bad…**_

She reached up, tugging on his tie to pull his head down, bringing his lips to hers again. He pushed with his lower jaw, and she pushed back.

"I always wanted to do that," she smiled, letting go and dropping the curtain between them.


	6. Chapter 6

Reid tried to dry his hair and shirt with the paper towels in Lorelei's room, but his efforts were futile. He sat in her desk chair, trying to rationalize what he had just done. This was the second time he had kissed the girl he was supposed to be keeping watch over. It was inappropriate, and it was wrong, but he wasn't sorry.

When Lorelei reappeared, she was fully clothed, a bath towel wrapped around her head. Noticing Reid's damp shirt and tie, she opened the bottom drawer of her bureau. "Sorry—put this on," she said, tossing him an extra-large purple tee reading "Spirit of Naz." He rose and turned to remove his button-down in favor of the dry t-shirt.

"So, uh, there's this thing called transference," he said, pulling the shirt over his head and smoothing it down his chest. "People have feelings for those protecting them, which manifest as a result of the illusion of security."

"When in reality, they have no rationale behind them?" she asked, unwrapping the towel from around her hair.

He nodded, sitting back down.

"Well, then," she began combing, "must be pretty terrible for the people who get caught up in that stuff."

He laughed nervously, nodding.

"Look," she walked over toward him, "I liked you the second I saw you. After we started talking, I realized you're kind, gentle, funny," she laughed, "and _really_ smart."

He tried not to blush, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

"It's too bad you've got to run around the country catching psychos," she finished, taking a seat on the bed, "because you're one hell of a catch."

He laughed, looking down at his hands, which sat fidgeting in his lap. Reid had never been good at receiving compliments.

"And?" she continued, causing him to look up, "you're adorable."

This time he laughed aloud, slapping his hands on the tops of his thighs. "_That's _a good one."

"It's true!" she exclaimed. "See, you've got these great hands," she took his right palm between her fingers, "agile and long fingers—you should play the piano if you don't already."

He swallowed, willing his palms not to glisten with sweat.

"And you've got this angular jaw," she reached forward, toward his face. He jerked back, turning his head to the side. "Really sharp, really defined."

He felt his phone buzzing. "I, uh, my phone is ringing."

She dropped his palm and stood up, moving back toward the bureau.

"Hello?"

"Reid," came Hotch's voice, "got some bad news."

"What's up?"

"Lorelei was right about Westboro distributing the pamphlets but the trail goes cold after they left six months ago."

"Maybe they inspired a new sect after they left."

"I've got Garcia looking up IP hit frequencies on the Church's websites in the local area. It's going to take a while; they ran six or seven sites."

Reid nodded. "Any update on the U of R students?"

"On one," Hotch said thickly. "Found in the nightclub parking lot—must've not been able to make it to the dumpster—same M.O."

"Any biblical references?"

Hotch exhaled slowly. "A verse from Romans was carved into his back."

"Like the biblical concept of whipping."

"I'm assuming you know the reference?"

"It's Romans 1:27, 'And men who committed sinful acts with other men received, in their own persons, the due penalty for their actions.'"

Reid looked over at Lorelei. She sat slumped on the floor, her back against the wall.

"How's Lorelei?" Hotch asked.

"She's, uh…she's fine."

"You know, it might be a good idea for you to stay there tonight."

"What? No! I want to help catch this guy!"

"Well from the looks of things, by staying around Lorelei, you very well might get a chance to."

He turned away from Lorelei, leaning over the desk. "I gotta call Garcia."

He pushed 'End,' on the phone and then hit speed-dial 7.

"Talk to me, Angel."

"Garcia, match the IP frequencies to the Church's sites with pornographic website hits. The M.O. is getting more violent; I think we're dealing with a closet case."

"You got it, Genius. Give me ten minutes."

He hung up, tossing the phone on the bed. He inhaled, then exhaled, letting his head droop into his hand, and his eyelids close.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Reid heard her voice behind him.

"No, you're not," he said, his eyes snapping open and whipping around to face her. "I don't care if I have to follow you around for the next year, but nothing is going to happen to you."

She let her head fall to one side, resting her elbows on her knees, which were brought in to her chest.

"I have class tomorrow morning."

He looked at her flatly. "I think if you explain the situation, they'll understand."

Her eyes were angry. "Yeah. I'll just hop on my e-mail and let the entire world know that I've been warned to get back in my closet, that's what I'm going to do, and if they were smart they'd do the same." She pushed herself up off the floor, "and we'd all better watch out or we'll be severely punished."

"That's not what I said—"

"The Bible says a lot of things," she said darkly, "not the least of which is that the Marshallh of the righteous is arduous."

"Is it worth dying for?"

"I don't know," she spat, "ask Matthew Shepard."

The angry silence settled in the room like a toxic chemical, sinking in the air with tension and weight.

She sat on the bed. "I'm not going to stay locked in my room like a caged animal because some crazy Baptist has a problem with what I believe in."

"Your life could be in danger," Reid said seriously. "It is my job to keep you safe."

"All of the others were taken from Rumors," she reasoned. "Nazareth College is a far cry from Rumors."

"The UnSub is also changing up the game," he countered.

"Are you trying to scare me?" she asked, leaning back. "Because I'm already scared. Don't worry—four dead people is enough to scare anyone."

"Then why not—"

"Your phone is ringing again," she cut him off, holding out the cell. "He's killed another sinner."

Exhaling, he opened the phone. "Hello?"

"Reid," came Rossi's voice, "you've got to get to the jailhouse pronto."

"You found him?"

"Theodore Cunningham, 36 years old, leader of the Coalition to Save Marriage. Number-one hit for all the Westboro websites."

"Any partners or die-hard followers?"

"Morgan and Hotch are tracking down everyone who ever spoke to him. I need my best Theologian here, now."

"What about Lorelei?"

"Prentiss and JJ are on their way."

"Okay." He snapped the phone shut and grabbed his messenger bag.

"You found him?" she asked quietly.

He bit his lower lip. "Maybe." Standing up, he added, "A couple of other agents are on their way."

"You're heading out?" she stood up as well.

"Yeah, going to interrogate this guy."

She nodded. "They would need the genius."

"Will you promise me something?" he raised his eyebrows.

She shrugged. "Depends."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Stay here."

She stared into his caramel eyes. He bit his lower lip, swallowing. She raised her eyebrows innocently, asking a question he didn't have the answer to.

She reached around his arm and opened the door. "Only I can decide what I will or won't do."

"Lock the door behind me," he said, grabbing his coat.


	7. Chapter 7

"Where is he?" Reid asked, tossing his coat and bag on a bench in the waiting room.

"Down the hall, in the interrogation room," Rossi explained. "He won't stop quoting scripture and preaching. Morgan's already on his way to—soften him up."

"He was essentially created through Phelps," Reid began to walk down the hall, "he probably has very little of his own thoughts."

"Reid?" Rossi asked, causing him to turn around. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Reid glanced down at his t-shirt, remembering. "Long story." Rossi raised an eyebrow and nodded, confused.

Reid turned the doorknob and walked into the interrogation room, seeing Cunningham with his hands folded, handcuffed to the table.

"Hello, Mr. Cunningham," said Reid tacitly.

"Hello, Dr. Reid."

"H—how do you know my name?"

Cunningham looked at him, his eyes dark and empty. "God told me."

Reid nodded, taking a seat across the table from him. "Did God tell you to kill all those people?"

"I didn't kill them," Cunningham shook his head. "They received the due penalties for their sinful actions."

"Would you mind telling us," Rossi stepped forward, "how exactly God was able to abduct five people and murder four of them?"

"They were sinners," Cunningham answered simply. "And they reaped what they had sown."

"Doesn't God forgive those who sin?" Reid asked, "Ephesians 4:32, And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other just as God also in Christ forgave you."

His eyes widened. "You know the New Testament."

"I know the Old Testament, too."

"Agent Reid," Cunningham said slowly, sitting up straighter. "I would expect…different…behavior from a shepherd of the Lord, our God."

"Diff—different from what?"

Cunningham cocked his head to the side, looking at Reid like he was a mischievous child. "Exodus, Doctor Reid. Exodus 20:14."

Reid stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Which verse is that?" Rossi interjected. "What does it say?"

"Exodus 20:14," Reid recited, "You shall not commit adultery."

"Reid's never been married," Rossi told Cunningham. "I don't think he's even ever had a date."

"That doesn't matter, does it, Agent Reid?" Cunningham asked.

Reid didn't answer, staring across the table with gritted teeth and a clenched fist.

"Matthew 5:28," Cunningham continued, "I tell you that everyone who gazes at a woman to lust after her has committed adultery with her already in his heart."

Reid shoved his chair back, screeching loudly on the linoleum floor. Muttering something about Morgan, he jerked the door handle and stormed out of the room.

"What the hell was all that about?" Rossi asked, following Reid out of the room.

"I don't know," Reid spat, "He—he must've followed Lorelei and I and thought we were, who knows—"

"You can't let him get to you like that, Reid. I need your head in the game."

"It is!" Reid panicked. "He just…how did he know my name?"

"I might be able to answer that," Morgan called, appearing from around the corner.

"This Coalition—Cunningham's brainchild—is absolutely huge," came Hotch, right behind Morgan. "We're easily looking at a group of two-hundred extremists underneath him."

"What the hell are you wearing?" asked Morgan, pointing at Reid's tee shirt.

"He's got eyes all over the city—someone's watching Lorelei—he knew my name!"

"Reid, calm down," Hotch stepped forward.

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Hey, Kid," Morgan asked calmly, "Is this…still about the case?"

Reid looked frantically from colleague to colleague. "What? Of course it still is! I just, I have this…horrible feeling…"

As if on cue, Hotch's cell phone rang.


	8. Chapter 8

Hotch flipped the phone open. "Talk to me."

There was a long pause. Hotch's face fell a tiny bit before he was able to regain control. The others stood stock-still, hanging on the words of whoever was at the other end of the line.

"You're sure?" Another pause. "Okay."

He hung up, took a deep breath. He looked at each of his teammates, his eyes lingering on Reid.

"Lorelei's gone."

Reid's eyes closed. His heart sank, beating slower and heavier. It was cold. He had a bit of trouble breathing.

"Prentiss had to kick open the door. There were signs of a struggle."

"Any notes, scripture?" Morgan inquired.

"There was a piece of ripped paper on the floor, reading 'We are warriors of God.'"

Reid ran a hand through his hair, turning back down the hall. He saw the door to the interrogation room, to where Cunningham sat, defenseless and waiting.

Morgan saw him break into a run. "Reid!" he barked, bolting after him. "Reid, no!"

Reid was fast and reached the door first, but Morgan tackled him with a grunt before he could push it open.

Reid's back hit the wall with a thud. Morgan braced Reid's bony shoulders against the wall with his large, strong hands.

"What do you think you're doing?" Morgan panted.

Reid didn't answer. He was breathing heavily.

Morgan's eyes were fierce, his expression desperate and angry. "What? Were you going to go in there and beat the answer out of him?" He thrashed Reid against the wall. "You are a federal agent, for God's sake!"

"Get off me," Reid spat, resisting.

"Listen to me, damn it!" Morgan shouted, pushing Reid harder. "You need to get focused and remember what we're doing here. I know it sucks but you need to calm down!"

Reid closed his eyes. "Morgan," he asked quietly, "what would you—"

"I don't know," Morgan answered, just as quietly. "I really, really don't know. Open your eyes." He relaxed his grip. "Listen. We're going to find her. And we're going to do it the same way we always do. But to do that we need our Reid _here_. _Focused_, with his giant brain engaged."

Reid stared at him. After a few moments, he took a deep breath. "Let go of me."

Morgan relinquished him, eyeing Hotch. "This girl must really be something special."

Shut up," Reid snapped, shooting his friend a glare. Morgan shook his head, turned and went into the interrogation room with Rossi.

Hotch stared at Reid questioningly. "I'm sorry," Reid said as he approached. "I just—I should have stayed—"

"You were following Rossi's orders."

Reid looked at him tensely, not responding.

"Maybe you'd be better off heading back to the hotel," Hotch offered. "It's been a long day."

"Hotch, I—"

"Reid, whatever happened between you and Lorelei, I do not want to know," Hotch looked at him sternly. "But to find her, Morgan's right—we need you in your best state." He picked up Reid's things. "Get some sleep."

Reid couldn't find the words to tell Hotch he might never sleep again. "Thanks."

"And Reid?" he turned. "I know you won't believe me. But I need to say it because it's true." Hotch walked toward the interrogation room. "This was not your fault."

Reid nodded, not believing him.


	9. Chapter 9

JJ cut him off in the parking lot before he made it to Lorelei's building.

"Reid—what are you doing here?"

"We've got to find her," he said darkly, slamming the door and brushing past her.

"Hotch said to go back to the hotel," she said, following him.

"He also said this wasn't my fault," Reid countered, not slowing down.

The scene appeared calm, so as not to instill panic. Two unmarked police cars were parked outside, along with a Campus Security sedan. Prentiss, the heel on her boot broken from kicking down the door, was talking with the police and the campus officer.

Reid joined the circle. Prentiss looked at him with questioning eyes, which JJ answered when she quickly caught up to him. Reid turned to the officers.

"Any witnesses?"

"Don't think so," the campus officer said.

"Don't you have cameras?" Reid spat. "Someone must have seen _something_."

"Reid, calm down," Prentiss said seriously.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Reid countered, almost yelling.

"We caught something—it was pretty dark. They were pretty unidentifiable," the police officer admitted.

"Five people—we're assuming the one not wearing black was Lorelei."

"White van—Chevy. Couldn't get a read on the plate."

Reid stormed away, Prentiss and JJ close behind.

Lorelei's room was destroyed. Her desk chair was splintered next to the door, as though she had thrown it across the room in a last-ditch effort to evade her attacker. The blankets and sheets were a tangled mess, as though she had grappled with two or three of the invaders on her bed.

Every object had been knocked off its surface—the lamp was smashed in one corner, the television on its face in another. The framed cat photo laid in a cracked mess on the carpet. Clumps of hair were strewn about.

"She did everything she could," Reid realized, speaking more to himself than to anyone else.

"Reid, there were too many of them," JJ admitted. "If we were here they would have taken all of us."

"I shouldn't have left her here."

"Reid, Rossi had Cunningham," Prentiss argued. "There was no way you could have known."

"I should have," Reid wandered around the room, looking for some kind of clue. "Can we test that hair?"

"Already sent it in, along with a pair of scissors with some blood on them."

"How about her cell phone?"

"Garcia already traced it," JJ shook her head. "It's on the carpet next to the desk."

Reid glanced over, seeing the cell amid the other items that had previously inhabited the desk.

He picked it up and opened it. Prentiss stepped forward, like she may try to take it from him, but JJ held up a hand to stop her.

"She has a new text message," Reid murmured, selecting _Read Now_.

It was from Anna, probably a friend.

"You're crazy," it read. "FBI agents don't fall in love with college students."


	10. Chapter 10

He stared at the phone's screen, imploring it to say something—anything—else.

Then he remembered something. It came in a rush, the memory.

"Reid, what are you doing?" Prentiss asked as Reid began to rifle through the pile of blankets.

"That's how he knew—someone must have—" he continued tossing items aside, "I left my—it has to be here."

"Reid, what the hell is going on?"

He moved into the bathroom, where he found what he was looking for.

Lying in the bathtub, soaking wet, were his tie and shirt. They were cut to ribbons.

JJ and Prentiss appeared behind him. "Reid, is that your shirt?" JJ asked. "I was going to ask what the hell you were wearing."

"Don't worry about it," Reid spat, poking through the pieces of his clothes. "They came to destroy but left no evidence."

"They've all been kidnapped, Reid."

"They've all been kidnapped _cleanly_," Reid clarified, moving out of the bathroom. "This is the very first violent one."

"Because Lorelei fought back."

"No, they wanted a bigger response. That's why they went for the one who would put up a fight. They're trying to make a statement, warn more people."

"Should we go to the press?" JJ asked.

"No," Prentiss countered. "We're not legitimizing this."

JJ's phone rang. "Hey Hotch." She looked at Reid. "No, he's actually here. I know." She nodded at him and Prentiss, signaling their departure. "Okay."

"What is it?" Prentiss asked.

JJ clapped her phone shut. "The APB on the van picked up a hit on Joseph Avenue. Morgan and Hotch are on the way already."

Reid grabbed his bag, almost running out of the room. Prentiss and JJ exchanged a look. JJ tilted her head in Reid's direction, raised a brow and widened her eyes. Prentiss nodded, understanding.

Prentiss followed Reid to the SUV. "I'll drive."

"It's fine, Emily," Reid snapped.

She cut him off by blocking the driver-side door. "It's not fine, _Spencer_." He rolled his eyes. "Listen to yourself! You're acting irrationally, you're confrontational—this is not the Reid I know and love."

"We have to find her," he said thickly.

"And we will," she nodded. "But right now, you're too upset. You're emotionally involved and you can't think straight."

"We wouldn't be here if there weren't so many other people thinking _straight_."

She pressed her lips together. "Very funny." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You _know_ what happens when we can't be objective. And Reid, this team can't _function_, without your logic rationality."

He took a deep breath, dropping his gaze. "I shouldn't have left her."

She took the keys from his left hand, limply hanging in the air, the muscles relaxed. "Reid, look at me."

The wind tousled his brown hair. His caramel eyes were tired, a beleaguered expression of desperate sadness present in the slackness of his face.

Prentiss gripped his upper arms with her hands, speaking slowly. "This was not your fault."

He shrugged out of her grip, meandering to the passenger side of the vehicle.

"How far is Joseph Avenue?"

Prentiss shrugged. "A while. Try to relax."

The black SUV circled the city until Reid fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

"We should have known it was a dummy van," Morgan said, tapping his fingers on the counter in frustration. "These people leave tracks they _want_ us to find, nothing more."

"There's too many of them," Hotch reasoned, taking a sip of his coffee. "They will eventually make a mistake."

"We got white vans picked up all night, Hotch," Rossi pointed out. "They're just toying with us…playing God."

"We need to push Cunningham harder," Hotch suggested.

"Tried," Morgan shook his head. "He's prepared to be a martyr for the cause."

"What if the cause was for naught?" Rossi asked.

"You mean make him think we took them all down?" Hotch clarified. "That would require dropping names."

"I'm on it," Morgan said, pushing Garcia's speed dial on his phone. "How much have you got, Baby Girl?"

There was a brief pause. Morgan snatched a napkin off the microwave and gestured for a pen. Hotch tossed it, and Morgan began writing down names and addresses.

After seven people had been copied down, Morgan passed the napkin to a local officer.

"Track them all down," Hotch commanded. "Immediately."

"Any ties to a white Chevy van?" Morgan asked. "Well, just work me a little magic, Honey." After a pause, he shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me."

Morgan turned to Rossi and Hotch. "They all drive 2004 white Chevy vans. Every damn one."

"Uniformed vehicles," Rossi pondered. "They really are an army."

"Reid's okay," Morgan told Garcia. "I don't know what it is about this girl." He chuckled. "Well, you know Reid."

"Speaking of Reid—" Rossi began.

"Prentiss is keeping an eye on him," Hotch finished. "Trying to make sure he doesn't do anything…impulsive."

JJ stormed into the room. "I've been out there for an hour." She poured herself a coffee. "People are panicking."

"People want answers," Hotch told her.

"It's amazing," JJ said, "even in the midst of such tragedy, there are people out there championing God's revenge."

"It's actually not that uncommon," came a familiar voice, "in the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard people protested at his funeral with giant signs reading _No tears for queers_."

Reid rounded the corner with Prentiss following. The team stared at Reid, trying to gauge his emotional state.

"How're you feeling?" JJ asked kindly.

"Fine," Reid said, rocking back on his heels. "It was a planted van—empty."

JJ nodded. "I'm really sorry, Reid."

He shrugged, looking away. "I thought it might be."

"How about we go to the Dunkin Donuts next-door and get some breakfast?" Rossi offered. "Just you and me."

"I actually am kind of hungry," Reid admitted. "But I think I'd rather go, uh, by myself."

Hotch eyed his colleague. "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," Reid nodded, looking from Hotch to Prentiss, Morgan, then to Rossi and JJ. "I just, you know, I need a minute."

Prentiss waited a few moments, until Reid was out of earshot. "Should we follow him?"

"No," Hotch said, "He's a big boy. He can go by himself."

"What is so special about this girl?" Rossi asked. "He's really going crazy."

"She's an enigma," Morgan said, still holding his cell. "Reid's drawn to her because he solves problems."

"He does seem intrigued by her," Prentiss observed.

"More than intrigued," JJ joked. "At least this morning he was wearing his own shirt." Nobody acknowledged the implication behind her remark.

"It's not like she's ugly," Prentiss continued. "You figure, hey—pretty girl who's smart, shares some interests, close in age—"

"Why don't we just drop it," Hotch said seriously, a tone of finality in his voice. Prentiss and JJ exchanged a look with Rossi. Hotch turned away, refilling his Rochester PD ceramic mug.

Morgan's face grew serious. "Garcia, what is it?" his voice held a hint of panic.

"Something wrong?" Rossi asked.

Morgan shot up from the table. "I need a computer." He rushed out toward the reception area. "Calm down, Baby Girl."

The rest of the team followed Morgan as he typed a passcode onto a free monitor.

"Hang on, hang on, I'm going," Morgan typed a web address. Prentiss, Hotch, JJ and Rossi watched in silence.

He pulled up a video message. "Someone sent it into the tipline website."

Hotch snatched the cell phone. "Garcia, track the IP address."

"I'm on it, Boss—it came from a public library with a timestamp release on it—it was actually sent a few hours ago."

"From where?"

"Wilmot Library, at—oh, God, Hotch—"

"At where, Garcia?"

"Nazareth College."

Hotch slid his eyes closed and pressed his lips together.

"Hotch!" Morgan barked, beckoning him over to the computer screen. "They've got her."

The video was dark and grainy—amateur. A girl was in the center of the frame, her hands tied behind her back and around the post she stood in front of. Her head was bowed, but the curly brown hair told the team in an instant that it was Lorelei.

"Why a video?" Prentiss asked.

"To get to Reid," JJ suggested.

"They didn't send it to Reid," Hotch countered. "They sent it for us."

A low voice growled through the computer speakers. "_If you tell us the names of the other sinners,_" it stipulated, "_We'll let you go_." The camera couldn't see the speaker's face. Lorelei made no acknowledgment that she had heard her captor's offer. Her head remained bowed, stock-still.

A slight figure in black appeared from behind her, even its gender indiscernible. The figure pulled Lorelei's head up by the hair, forcing her to look at her attacker.

Her lower lip was split. Caked blood trailed her left temple. Her eyes were flat, emotionless.

"They've cut pieces of her hair off," Prentiss pointed, chilled.

"That's not a cut," Morgan shook his head. "It's been burned off."

"The fires of Hell," Rossi murmured.

Hotch addressed Garcia. "Get the names and addresses of every guest to that library in the last two days. Cross-reference them with the list from the Westboro websites."

"_Tell us their names_," the video growled.

Lorelei didn't answer. The figure in black brought a hand across her face with a sickening _whack_. The team flinched as one.

"_Answer me, temptress_."

She looked at him squarely. "Go to Hell."

The figure in black struck her once again. Lorelei crumpled against the post, gasping in pain. Another figure approached from behind the camera. This one was larger, and the voice—a man's voice—came from it.

"You spit in the face of the Lord, our God," he snarled, bringing his knee into her stomach. The girl collapsed even more, coughing as the wind was forced out of her lungs.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair. "You volunteer for the undying fires of the underworld with your disgusting, sinful enabling." With his other hand, he fished a Zippo lighter out of his pants pocket.

JJ braced the table. Prentiss brought a hand to her face. Even Hotch felt the breath hitch in his throat.

"You beg for the fires of Hell," he repeated, flicking the lighter and allowing the flame to lick the ends of her brown locks.

Lorelei gasped for air. "Please, please don't."

"Tell me their names."

She stifled a sob. "No."

The man struck her with his forearm. "Demon! Bask in your punishment from the Lord!"

He closed the lighter and exited the frame, leaving only Lorelei, the left side of her head still aflame.

JJ gasped. "Oh, my God, Hotch—"

"No, no, it's all right," Morgan soothed. "Hair is already dead; it'll put itself out."

Just like he said, the flames burned out, the charred ends of Lorelei's chocolate-brown hair flaking off and landing in coiled ash on the shoulder of her tee shirt. Three to four inches had been removed in the process.

Lorelei's shoulders rippled with her cries. Her frame slumped forward as much as the post would allow. After a few agonizing moments, she caught her breath and tried to stand back up.

She looked in the direction of the camera; tear streaks striped down her face. A bruise from the blows she had just sustained was already blooming on her cheekbone. Burn marks dotted her collarbone and neck.

"Spencer," she said, trying not to cry. "I'm…I'm sorry I couldn't stop them."

Something crashed in the distance. Lorelei jerked her head to the side to assess her safety before continuing.

"If, if you're watching this," she swallowed, "don't come for me. They'll kill you, too. If you die…" she bit her lip. "You're too important, Spencer. I'm…just let them kill me." She took a breath. "I'm not worth it."

The video ended. The team stared at the charcoal computer screen, their expressions as blank as its.

"Talk about a martyr," Morgan whispered. "Did you see that? She took it all."

"Any updates, Garcia?" Hotch asked, pushing the speakerphone button.

"Three. Daniel Erlich, 1349 Regis Street. Jacob Sentan, 733 Park Street. And Angela Jarvis, 691 Upton Place. All hits for the websites and all at Nazareth yesterday."

"Dispatch officers immediately to all three," Hotch ordered. "We'll split up and meet them there, right after we tell Reid."

"Tell me what?"

Hotch closed his eyes again, instinctively bringing a hand to his temple. Morgan stood up, hands in his pockets, and approached Reid.

Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, Morgan led him out the door.

"I gotta tell you something, Reid…"


	12. Chapter 12

"Rossi and JJ will take Erlich's house," Hotch directed. "Prentiss and I will take Sentan's."

Morgan returned. "Reid and I got Jarvis." Reid entered behind him, taking long, determined steps toward the computer.

"Reid," Hotch asked as Reid took the empty seat, "Are you sure?"

Reid looked from Hotch to Rossi, to Prentiss then JJ, finally to Morgan. He nodded, his eyes wide. "I need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

Hotch nodded curtly. "Let's move."

Morgan shifted uncomfortably after the room was empty, save for Reid and himself. Not wanting to witness the video again, he cleared his throat and edged toward the door. "I'm just, uh, gonna—"

"I'd like to you stay," Reid asked, his eyes pleading slightly, "if you don't mind."

Morgan exhaled, nodding. "Sure, Kid."

Reid pressed _Replay_, taking a deep breath and bracing himself.

Lorelei's torture began again. Reid bit his lower lip, pressing his hands together. As she was struck again and again, his knuckles turned white and his jaw tightened.

Morgan squeezed his friend's thin shoulder.

Reid's eyes clamped shut at the sight of the Zippo, reopening when he heard her voice.

"Spencer," she repeated, "I'm sorry I couldn't stop them." When she looked away, Reid yelped an incredulous "What?" at the screen.

"If, if you're watching this," she said again, "don't come for me. They'll kill you. If you die…you're too important, Spencer."

Reid's eyelids slid downward. He swiped away a tear with the back of his hand. "Let them kill me. I'm not worth it." Reid's head dropped into his hands as the screen went blank once again.

The silence in the room grew tenser with each passing second.

"Reid?"

"I'm okay," he murmured, opening his eyes, sweeping his hair back and pushing _Replay_ again.

"Reid!"

"No, look," he said, grabbing a napkin and Morgan's discarded pen. "The injuries are for humiliation and pain—they're not trying to kill her."

"So you think she's still alive?"

"They wouldn't have sent us this unless she was," Reid mused, scribbling on the napkin. "They're dangling her in front of us, like bait."

"Live bait," Morgan thought aloud. "Because she's straight—they can keep her because she's like them."

"E—exactly," Reid scribbled furiously. "In, in the sixth chapter of the book of John, Jesus created a feast for five thousand people out of two small fish and some bread."

"Okay," Morgan trailed off, not following.

Reid looked at him, his caramel eyes full of passion. "They're going to keep her to get names of more sinners, to supply them with their feast."

He turned back to the screen. "And, and look at these posts," he pointed. "Foundational support posts, for a sagging wooden floor, most likely."

"So she's in a basement."

"Of an extremely old building." Reid stared intently at the screen as Lorelei addressed him for a third time. "She's not sending any clues to tell us where they are—speech, body language, nothing."

"She doesn't want you to find her," Morgan said. "She'd really rather die than put you in danger."

Reid sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He looked up at Morgan, his eyebrows raised. "Did you hear? She called me Spencer."

Morgan shook his head, his signature half-smile creeping across his face. "I'm glad you're back." In his pocket, he felt his phone vibrating.

He turned it on speakerphone when he heard Garcia's voice. "What have you got, Baby Girl?"

"Are you with Reid?" she asked, a slight waver in her voice.

"Garcia," Reid began, "do those three people from the library have anything in common?"

"Financially," Morgan added, "other than the Coalition."

"Okay, guys, but listen—"

"Specifically property," Morgan clarified.

Garcia took a breath. They were three of the dozen or so that invested in a large storefront, looks like…but it bombed two years ago. Morgan—"

"Do they still own the property?" Reid asked.

"It…is…currently owned by Christopher Jarvis."

"Angela Jarvis' husband?" Morgan asked.

"Father," Garcia corrected, "tried to start a fishing store—failed dismally."

"What's the address?" Reid pushed.

"Just let me tell you—"

"Garcia," Morgan continued, "we're wasting time—"

"We received a phone call from the guy on the video," Garcia cut in, her voice shrill. "I think it's important that you hear it."

Morgan looked at Reid, his stomach sinking. Reid's mouth hung open slightly, his forehead wrinkling. "Sorry, Baby Girl. Lemme hear it."

Garcia pressed a keystroke. Static crackled over the line, followed by the same growling voice on the video.

_"Bring us Agent Reid or she dies. No weapons, no badge, hands tied. One hour, or her blood will spill."_

The silence briefly returned. "Shoulda let me go first," Garcia quipped dryly.

Reid rose from the chair. "Have you got that address?"

She type a few more keystrokes. "777 West Clinton."

Reid grabbed a zip-tie. "Let's go."


	13. Chapter 13

"Hotch," Morgan said into the phone. "Any luck?'

"There's nothing at Erlich's or Sentan's," came Hotch's voice over the speaker.

"Check Jarvis'," Morgan executed a turn. "We're not going there after all."

"Why not?'

"We're going to the warehouse where they're holding Lorelei."

"How do you know that's where she is?"

"Garcia relayed a threatening message and used her superpowers."

"What kind of message?"

"They want me," Reid said, leaning over to make sure he was heard.

"They're not going to kill Lorelei," Morgan explained. "They're almost certainly going to keep her alive to get information."

"Unless I'm not there in less than half an hour," Reid chimed in.

"I'll dispatch an officer," Hotch said.

"Better not," Morgan countered, breezing through an intersection. "They want Reid, defenseless, and nobody else. Police presence may spook them."

"We'd get more done elsewhere," Hotch agreed.

"Look specifically at anyone who invested in a business on West Clinton," Reid said. "Anyone involved enthusiastically in fishing."

"I want hourly updates from you, Morgan," Hotch said, adding something to the people in the background. "Reid, I'm going to ask you again. Are you sure?"

Reid pursed his lips. The hands resting on his messenger bag were white. "I—if we rush the building, we don't know how many of them there are, and Lorelei will die," he swallowed hard. "It's the only chance we've got."

"That's not what I asked."

Reid took a deep breath and looked away to face out the windshield. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Keep me informed," Hotch said before hanging up.

Morgan turned right. "It should be up here on the right."

Reid exhaled, a small shudder barely detectable. He removed his gun and his I.D., loading his messenger bag with them and fishing out the zip tie. He tucked a tiny audio transmitter behind his ear with trembling hands.

"I'm going to drop you off, drive away, and then circle back," Morgan coached. There was no answer. "I'll be listening on the earpiece the entire time," he continued, to no response. "What phrase do you want for me to move in?" He waited patiently for an answer.

"Reid!" Morgan barked, snapping him out of it. Reid jumped, startled. "Are you sure about this?"

"Tobias Henkel," Reid said dryly.

"What?"

"That's the phrase. Tobias Henkel," his eyes remained ahead. "I survived him. I can survive this."

Morgan pressed his lips into a thin line. "There was only one of Henkel. And he didn't have someone you care about held hostage."

Reid sat up straighter. "I don't c—"

"Don't gimme that," Morgan cut him off. "It's bull and you know it."

He pulled the SUV onto the shoulder of the road. 777 West Clinton loomed darkly among the empty lots and abandoned buildings. You wouldn't be able to pick it out among the other empty factories unless you knew what lay inside. The windowpanes were cracked, bricks crumbling away from the corners, and a thin layer of dust coating the street with silence.

"Okay," Reid unbuckled himself, turning toward Morgan and offering the zip tie.

"Morgan reluctantly took the black plastic strap. "Are we really gonna do this?"

Reid looked back at the building. After a moment, he turned back to Morgan. "I don't have a choice," he said sadly, bringing his wrists together. Morgan set his jaw and tied his colleague's hands with the zip tie.

He reached over and pulled the tan messenger bag from Reid's lap. "Thanks," Reid said, shifting awkwardly in order to open the passenger-side door. As he swung his long legs out of the SUV he turned back to Morgan.

"If I…if I uh, don't—"

"Don't think like that, Pretty Boy," Morgan said, raising a hand. Reid stared at him a moment, then nodded and hopped out of the vehicle.

"Reid," Morgan called when he turned to shut the door. "Good luck."

Reid gave a weak smile. "Thanks."

He shut the door and turned back toward the building as Morgan drove away. The dark brick building seemed much bigger when he didn't have the safety of the SUV, his gun in its holster, and Morgan at his side.

An icy wind whipped his hair back as he slowly approached the empty factory. The hard snow crunched under his mahogany loafers.

A loading dock garage door was open near the rear of the building, not facing the street. The closer Reid got to the dock, the louder the wind seemed to moan through the broken windows.

He gulped audibly as he crossed the threshold. His heart began to race as he called out an "I'm here."

He heard footsteps, but saw no one. Then two figures appeared from the shadows on either side of him, took his upper arms, and led him quickly away, into the abyss of the factory.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hello, Agent Reid," came a voice from the darkness ahead of him. He recognized the low, scratchy quality immediately, from the video. "I trust you are unarmed?"

"Y—yes," he stammered. "W—wh—where's Lorelei?"

"In time, Agent Reid, in time," said the voice. The figures, probably male because of their substantial height, began to pat his sides and legs to check for weapons.

He heard a light-switch. An incandescent bulb flickered on overhead, bathing them in a yellow light.

The figures at his sides were male, as was the man who stood before him, with yellow teeth and five-o-clock shadow.

"I'm Nate Jarvis," he grinned, stepping toward Reid with a pocketknife dangling from his right hand.

Reid's muscles tensed. He tried to back up, but the men restrained him. His eyes snapped shut.

"Don't worry," Jarvis said, opening the knife. "Just a formality." He slid the blade between Reid's wrists and yanked, severing the zip tie.

Reid lowered his hands. "Thank you," he said quietly. The men at his sides roughly removed his coat. He closed his eyes but made no protest. He heard it land, balled up, on the dusty floor behind him. The man on his left wedged a hand under his sweater-vest, yanking upward. He flinched involuntarily away, stammering, "N—no, I—I can do it."

"I appreciate your cooperation," Jarvis said warmly as Reid undressed, pulling the sweater-vest over his head and dropping it to the floor. "That will do," he said softly when Reid's hands flew to the first button of his beige dress shirt. "Just the outer layers—for security, you understand?"

Reid nodded, looking nervously from Jarvis to his two henchmen. "N—now what?"

Jarvis gave a smile and tilted his head further into the darkness. As he motioned for Reid to follow, the stocky man at his right took his wrists and pulled them behind his back.

The other man secured them with duct tape. Again Reid closed his eyes, but made no objection.

He was led down a narrow corridor and two dimly lit staircases. The air stank of stale rat carcass, and the lower they descended, the more impossibly cold it became.

"I'm grateful you've decided to join us, Agent Reid," Jarvis turned back to look at Reid. "Or, as she refers to you, Spencer."

Jarvis waited for a satisfying reaction. Reid knew this, so he did his best to calm the pounding in his heart and the rage brewing in his stomach. "Th—that's my name," he said simply.

Jarvis nodded. "So it is." He pushed open two heavy wooden doors, and when Reid saw the posts he knew they were in the right place.


	15. Chapter 15

A few dangling bulbs provided only the most minimal of light, but when Reid saw Lorelei it was all he could do to not vomit.

Lorelei was in the far corner of the unfurnished basement. The entire area reeked of her burnt hair, of which there was very little left. Her neck, shoulders and collarbones were riddled with infected burns. Dried blood was caked on her temple, and one of her eyes was black. Her lip, still split, was freshly bleeding, as though she had been hit again very recently.

She sat slumped, eyes closed. Another female in black sat in a chair a few feet away, a large Bible open in her lap.

"By the time Lot had reached Zoar, the sun had risen over the land," she recited, her voice flat and emotionless. "Then the Lord rained down burning sulfur on Sodom and Gomorrah—from the Lord out of the Heavens."

"Thank you, Diana," Jarvis said, approaching her with a raised hand. "That will do; our guest has arrived."

Lauren raised her head, her face falling with sadness when she saw Reid. Tears glassed the surface of her chocolate-brown eyes.

"You weren't supposed to come here," she croaked, blinking rapidly and looking from captor to captor. "You were supposed to let them kill me."

He shook his head, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest and his eyes burning with the threat of tears. "I couldn't," he choked out.

"Enough," Jarvis said, stepping forward. The two men flanking Reid walked him over to the rear wall, one pushing him roughly against it. The other removed something from his pocket, and Reid felt the cold metal of a pistol against his right side.

"Lorelei," Jarvis continued, "you have, as of yet, been _extremely_ stubborn." He cracked his knuckles. "And it has been _extremely _difficult to," he took a deep breath, "maintain good spirits." He took a few steps, gesturing to Reid. "Lorelei, how do you know this man?"

Lorelei said nothing, looking from Jarvis to Reid.

Jarvis turned to Reid, a sinister look in his eyes. "Agent Reid," he licked his lips, "what does Proverbs, chapter twelve, verse twenty-two read?"

Reid gulped, "The, the Lord detests lying lips, b—but he delights in those who are truthful."

"Very good," Jarvis said, turning back to Lorelei. "I'm waiting."

She pressed her lips together. "We, we met at Rumors, and then he came back to Naz with me."

"And then what?" he pressed, kneeling down to look her in the eye. Lorelei shuddered, averting her eyes.

"An—and then I kissed her," Reid said. "I kissed her."

"Is that right, Lorelei?" Jarvis asked, his face inches from hers. Lorelei nodded, a tear landing on the dirty concrete floor. "You must care an awful lot about him."

Lorelei bit her lip, stifling a cry. "I do."

Jarvis nodded and stood, satisfied. "Stand up," he directed her.

Lorelei shuffled, her face straining. "I—I can't."

Jarvis nodded to the henchman on Reid's left, who stepped forward, grabbed Lorelei's shoulder and jerked her upward. Reid flinched, and he felt the gun barrel press harder into his side.

"I've tried to be nice about this," Jarvis said. "The impure will be thrown into the lake of fire. It is my duty, as a messenger of God, to execute them."

Lorelei gasped in pain, wrenching her shoulder out of the henchman's grip. "Why not let God decide who's impure?"

Jarvis strode over to her, bringing the back of his hand down on her cheekbone.

"Stop!" Reid jerked forward, only be slammed back into the frigid wall.

"Don't move," sneered his captor, jabbing the gun harder into his ribcage.

Jarvis grabbed what was left of Lorelei's hair. "God allowed my soldiers to go _onto_ your campus, _into_ your school, and _take_ you. _You_ are here to _serve me_. Don't you see that?" He released her roughly, pushing her head down. "I want something from you. In exchange, I will allow you and Agent Reid to go free."

Reid tried to move again, and felt the pistol stab him a third time. "I'm not above killing a Fed," the man growled.

"I want the names and physical descriptions of all of the leaders of organizations like yours," Jarvis proposed.

"Forget it," Lorelei croaked. "I'm not giving you a hit list."

"Very well," Jarvis said coolly, stepping back toward Reid. "Let's see if I can change your mind."

"Nathan, y—you don't have to do this," Reid pleaded.

"What are you doing?" Lorelei asked, panicking.

Jarvis made no answer, winding an arc and plunging a fist into Reid's thin stomach.

Reid's legs gave out, but Jarvis' henchmen held him up against the wall. Reid coughed, trying to recover his breath.

"Stop!" Lorelei shrieked. "You're hurting him!"

Jarvis punched Reid again, causing him to cry out in pain. "No, my dear, you are! Your silence is killing him." Jarvis again fished out his pocketknife.

"Don't!" Lorelei cried. "Please!"

"You had your chance to save him," Jarvis said, turning back to Reid, who struggled against the two men who braced his arms and shoulders against the wall. Panic burned in his caramel eyes.

"L—Lorelei," Reid, stammered, "Don't tell him anything—without your information, he has no—"

"Shut him up!" Jarvis barked, cutting him off. The man on Reid's left clamped a large, sweaty hand over his mouth.

"Lorelei," Jarvis continued, not looking at her but at Reid, the blade gliding down his dress shirt. "I want you," he severed the lowermost button, "to think about," one more button was removed, "every time I asked you," he cut another, "and every time you refused to answer me."

He moved up Reid's front, removing buttons one by one with the three-inch blade.

"Agent Reid," Jarvis said after he sliced the threads on Reid's uppermost button, "you're shaking."

Reid yelled into the henchman's palm, "Tobias Henkel!" but it was impossible for Morgan to even hear him, let alone understand. Even though it was probably below freezing, a bead of sweat slid down his temple.

"Please stop," Lorelei begged, struggling against the post. "Please!"

"It's too late," Jarvis said, bringing the blade to Reid's shivering throat. He yelled into the man's palm again, clamping his eyes shut.

"No, please! I'll do anything!"

Jarvis froze, a smile etching itself across his face. "Anything?"


	16. Chapter 16

"Stand down," Morgan repeated. "The girl's gonna talk. Freeze."

Nothing moved, the block remaining silent. Morgan could see 777 looming overtop the other buildings, but his post was a safe distance away. He glanced at Reid's bag in the passenger seat, a pang in his chest stinging at the thought of his friend enduring what must lie in that building.

Static crackled through the transmitter. "I can't make it out, Agent," said a local officer. "They're too far underground to get a clear signal."

"Who the hell is that?" Morgan asked, leaning forward in the driver's seat. A blue sedan was pulling around the corner, approaching his SUV. "Get them out of here!"

"Driver said his name is Aaron Hotchner," said another officer. "He has a badge."

The sedan pulled up alongside Morgan. "It's been an hour and a half," Hotch said, cracking the window. "What's the word?"

"It's tough to get clear signals. They're pretty far underground," Morgan rubbed his temple. "There was a struggle—Reid may have been hurt—"

"Is he okay?" Prentiss asked, leaning over the center console.

Morgan nodded. "It almost got ugly, but she's going to talk."

"So she says," Hotch mused.

"Sounded legit."

Hotch thought for a moment, looking away.

"What'd you find at Jarvis'?" Morgan changed the subject.

"It's a headquarters," Hotch said, not meeting Morgan's eyes. "They must've had video surveillance of half the city."

"Garcia hacked the computer database we found," Prentiss cut in. "They've been watching e-mails, tapping phones—the works."

"Turns out Cunningham wasn't the leader after all," Morgan concluded. "He was just a diehard fan."

Hotch nodded. "Diehard fan of Angela's husband. Nate Jarvis, he's 44, has a masters in information technology from RIT."

"Might explain why they got so violent with Defoe," Morgan surmised.

"They'd been watching Lorelei for weeks, maybe months," Prentiss said. "They had pictures of her car, her class schedule—"

"They made their move when they saw Reid," Hotch continued.

"When the Feds moved in, it got serious," Morgan offered.

Hotch shook his head. "They saw a way to get to Lorelei."

"Then why not use _him_ to lure _her_?" Morgan asked.

Prentiss shrugged. "They knew her pattern, her routine."

"And they could probably guess Reid would go after her," Morgan said quietly. The three of them exchanged knowing glances.

Loud static came through Morgan's earpiece, indiscernible. Frustrated, he smacked the steering wheel.

"Can't hear a damn thing in there."

"We have to make a move," Prentiss said, looking from Hotch to Morgan. "Reid's in danger."

"Prentiss, they have an army," Morgan said seriously. "They only chance we'd have is calling in all the backup we can find—and in doing so we'd cause a world of panic, and they both could still die."

"Their operation is far too big for them to have so many people stuck here," Hotch said, looking at the building. "They'd be out trying to serve the Lord."

"Trying to abduct more people?"

Hotch shrugged. "Maybe. But chances are there's not more than ten of them inside."

Morgan looked over at the dark brick building, then down at Reid's bag. The static rumbled loudly over the transmitter.

There was no was for him to know if the indiscernible static was Reid, crying out Tobias Henkel's name.

"I'll try to get closer," he resigned.


	17. Chapter 17

"Yes," Lorelei cried, "yes. I'll tell you anything, just please—please don't hurt him."

"See, Lorelei?" Jarvis asked, one hand still on Reid's shoulder. "You still have a speck of good judgment in you."

"Please let him go," Lorelei said quietly, shaking with fear. "He—he hasn't done anything."

He turned back to her, sneering, "_Everyone_ has done _something_."

"At least let go of him," she begged, "you're hurting him."

Jarvis sighed, annoyed at the lack of progress. Reluctantly, he nodded at the two cronies, who promptly released Reid from their grasp.

Reid collapsed onto his knees, coughing and gasping for breath. His button-less shirt fell open, the sides dangling from this thin torso. He leaned back against the wall, sitting on his feet and gaining control of his air intake. "There," Jarvis spat. "Your turn."

"Oh—okay," Lorelei admitted, struggling to remain standing.

"Choose the first leader to die."

She looked at him in desperation. "I'm a leader. Kill me."

"You try my patience!" Jarvis yelled, raising a hand and causing her to violently flinch. "You are only alive to provide us with the information to continue God's will!" He brought his forearm across her face. In an instant, Reid could see blood staining her teeth. "But if you'd like, when your purpose is served, I will _gladly_ end your life."

Her head sank, and she struggled not to omit a sob. Jarvis, still angry, yanked her head up by the remains of her hair. "_After_," he jabbed a finger at Reid, "I slit his skinny little throat."

"Nathan," Reid pleaded, "she agreed to talk. Pl—please let go of her."

"And you!" Jarvis yelled, tossing Lorelei aside and approaching the spot against the wall where Reid sat. "_You're_ in the same position as her!" He pointed a fat finger between Reid's wide copper eyes. "You are alive because I _let_ you live!" He raised his leg, forcefully connecting his foot to Reid's bare ribcage. "And you will _die_ when I say you die!"

Reid yelped in pain, collapsing onto the dirty concrete floor. Lorelei screamed something, but the pounding in his head drowned out all other sounds. Dust and grime rubbed onto his chest and into his hair, but the cool stone felt comforting on his face.

Jarvis took hold of his shoulder, pulling him toward a sitting position. "And if you don't _shut_ your _mouth_," Jarvis looked him in the eye, his pupils wide and black, "I will burn her alive."

Reid gulped, nodding. "Oh—okay. I understand."

"I'm sorry," Lorelei said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me you're sorry," Jarvis muttered. "Tell me what I want to know."

Lorelei nodded. "Oh—okay." She took a deep breath. "At…at the U of R…the U of R's GSA…it's—it's run by," she bit her lip, "it's run by…I can't do it."

"You worthless whore!" Jarvis screamed, towering over her. Lorelei cowered in fear, bowing her head and squeezing her eyes shut. "You demonic wench!" he roared. "You will writhe in torment!"

"Wait!" Reid cried. "She—she could write it!"

Jarvis froze. "What?"

"T—text is not as committal as writing," Reid stammered. "It—it would probably be easier to write it, a—and that way she could still give you information."

Jarvis weighed the options, quickly conceding due to his frustration. When he wheeled around to face Lorelei, she gasped and flinched, but he did not strike her. Instead, he brandished his knife and severed the layers of duct tape around her wrists.

Lorelei slowly brought her hands to her sides, wincing with the soreness in her shoulders. The edges of the tape were grimy, dusty and stained with blood.

She raised her eyes to meet his. Even though dirt, bruises and cuts riddled her face, and her hair was a disastrous patchwork of charred coils, Reid still felt his heart beat faster.

_Thank you_, she mouthed.

Jarvis tore a note page out of the back of Diana's bible, snatching half a pencil off the dirty basement floor.

He slapped them onto the floor in front of Lorelei. "I'm losing my patience. If you have not performed your duty in five minutes, you both will be eviscerated."

Lorelei nodded, slowly reaching down to retrieve the pencil.

She wrote slowly, weakly. A tear spilled over and landed on the torn blank bible page.

Jarvis stormed away, opening an out-of-date cell phone to speak to a cohort about the progress they were finally beginning to make.

Reid cleared his throat. "What do you know about Tobias Henkel?" She raised her eyes to stare blankly at him. "Tobias Henkel," he repeated, giving a tiny nod and shifting his feet.


	18. Chapter 18

Morgan's eyes widened. "Move in!" he whispered sharply over the earpiece.

"What did he say?" an officer inquired. "All I heard was static."

"That was the signal," Morgan assured. "Move."

"Are you sure?" someone else asked.

"Positive." Morgan removed his gun from its holster. "Be discrete."

The SWAT uniforms glided slowly across the hard snow, appearing from behind cars, out of doors, and through buildings. Morgan crept silently onto the loading dock, his gun drawn and his flashlight illuminating a small circle of the deserted building. Hotch and Prentiss soundlessly followed. On their left, Rossi and JJ led a portion of the SWAT team.

"We have to move down," Morgan whispered. "We know they're underground."

"Look for a staircase," Hotch breathed.

Morgan's foot touched something soft. He stepped back, lowering his flashlight to the floor.

Reid's jacket, balled and discarded, lay on the floor. Nearby, his sweater vest and the severed zip tie rested emptily on the concrete. Morgan felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. He moved on, willing his heart to stop racing.

A beam of light flitted across the ceiling. The source was Prentiss, standing next to a door reading _Stairs_.

Hotch nodded, and the silent crowd crept methodically toward the door.


	19. Chapter 19

"We're going to die," Lorelei muttered sadly.

"No, we're not," Reid assured calmly. "I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"Look around," she said, her eyes glassy. "This is where protecting me has led you."

He looked away, laughing softly. "Lorelei, if this is the price for knowing you," he bit his lip, "I'd pay it ten more times."

She dropped her gaze, blinking back tears.

"I have an idea," he said, drawing her eye contact. He eyed Jarvis, then looked back at her, crinkling an eyebrow. She squinted slightly, glancing at the guard who had threatened Reid with the pistol. He gave a hint of a smile, understanding.

Lorelei dropped the pencil, signaling to Jarvis that his list was complete. He snapped the cell phone shut, returning to the corner where she sat.

"There is some righteousness within you," he sneered, leaning down to retrieve the paper.

"More than you think," Lorelei growled, stabbing her right index finger into Jarvis' left eye with all her might.

Jarvis roared in pain, leaning backward and bringing his hands to his face. The henchmen, who until this point had been ignoring the prisoners, lurched forward.

As one of the guards moved past him, Reid drove his bony shoulder into the man's kneecap. As the man toppled over, Reid vaulted upward, bringing his bound hands in front of himself. He swiftly leaned over, stripping the pistol from the confused man struggling to regain his balance.

Jarvis brandished the knife again, grabbing the back of Lorelei's head and exposing her throat.

"Don't move," Reid said darkly, pointing the gun at Jarvis.

He turned to Reid, still holding the blade mere inches from Lorelei's burn-infected neck. "But Agent Reid," Jarvis surmised, flashing a yellowed smile, "you, of all people, should _encourage_ me."

"Let her go."

"This temptress has seduced you to the point of risking your life," he raised an eyebrow, "risking your _job._"

Reid cocked the pistol.

"How do you think Aaron Hotchner will see you," Jarvis continued, "after you've proven your inability to be objective and composed in the presence of a woman?"

"Let her go, Jarvis," Reid warned slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you going to kill all of us?" he responded cockily. "You will definitely run out of bullets before my army does."

"Isaiah 41:10," Reid recited, "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

"I am a servant of the Lord," Jarvis raised his eyebrows. "The streets of hell must run crimson with the blood of the evil." Lorelei's head shook as he jerked his fist.

"And it will," Reid said darkly, "If you do not let go of her."

"You are blind," Jarvis scoffed, slowly nearing Lorelei's throat.

"Don't move!" Reid shouted.

"The impure must be slaughtered," Jarvis said smoothly. Reid pulled the trigger, the shot exploding with a bang in the corner of the basement.

The bullet made a dime-sized hole above Jarvis' left eye. He fell backward, his hands dropping from Lorelei's hair and neck, the pocketknife clattering noisily to the floor. He coughed only once as he collapsed backward onto the concrete, lying flat on his back, stock-still.

Lorelei shuffled away, her breath shuddering. A thin sliver of blood trailed down the front of her neck.

Reid pointed the pistol at the two guards. "Lie down on the floor—put your hands on your heads." When one of them hesitated, Reid menaced them by waving the gun. "Do you want to die? Lie down!"

Lorelei grabbed the knife off the floor, slowly rising to her feet. Hobbling weakly over to Reid, she worked to cut through the duct tape around his wrists.

"Thanks," he said softly after the last piece had been severed. Looking down, he remembered the present state of his clothing, and wrapped the open shirt around himself.

A bang echoed out in the distance, and Reid instinctively drew the gun, stepping between Lorelei and the darkness.

He lowered the pistol in relief when he heard Morgan's voice. "FBI! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!"

Lorelei fell into Reid's chest as the footsteps approached. Slowly and carefully, Reid wrapped his arms around her. She brought her hands together around his waist, and the front of his shirt felt warm with her tears. "Thank you," she said softly.

He let his face fall gently on the top of her head, burnt ends of her hair flaking off as he did so. "No, thank you."


	20. Chapter 20

"She refuses to leave until Reid is in the ambulance with her," Prentiss said in frustration. "And she needed to leave five minutes ago; those burns are really something else."

Reid nodded, smoothing the front of the Rochester PD sweatshirt that someone had recovered from a squad car for him. "What about the—"  
"We'll take care of everything," JJ assured him.

Reid took a deep breath, nodding again and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Th—thanks for everything."

"Don't worry about it," Rossi dismissed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Try to get some rest."

Reid approached the ambulance, surrounded by medical personnel trying to tend to Lorelei, who was making it clear that she wanted nothing other than to be left alone. From behind a squad car, Hotch appeared.

"Reid," he began, visibly nervous, "I heard what Jarvis said. About…about me."

Reid nodded, rocking back on her heels. "I jeopardized the team. I jeopardized my life."

"You saved her," Hotch stepped closer. "I know how hard it is to do this job when someone you care about is in danger." Reid looked away, embarrassed. "What you did in there exceeded my wildest expectations."

Reid looked back, his caramel eyes bewildered.

"You amazed me," Hotch repeated, clapping a hand on Reid's shoulder.

Reid nodded, biting his lip. "Thank you."

He continued toward the ambulance, swallowing hard. He saw Morgan, standing a good distance away and talking on his phone. When he saw Reid he abruptly hung up, calling out his name.

"Reid!" he called, jobbing over. "How you feeling, Kid?"

Reid shrugged. "I have a shirt on; can't complain."

Morgan chuckled, nodding. "It's not true. What he said—about Hotch."

"He told me," Reid nodded.

"But you don't believe him," Morgan finished. Reid swallowed, shifting his weight. "Reid, you in there unarmed, with your hands literally tied behind your back." He looked over at the ambulance. "And you saved her life."

Reid looked down at his loafers. "How can I make this feeling go away?"

"I don't know," Morgan said softly, "but I do know there's a lot of people who search their whole lives for what you're feeling and never find it."

When Reid looked back up, Morgan tousled his hair. "Maybe it's not such a bad feeling to have, Pretty Boy."

Reid chuckled, trying to fix his hair. Morgan motioned forward, looking at him slyly. "She's waiting."

Reid turned around, taking the last few steps to where Lorelei lay, strapped to a stretcher just outside the ambulance. She wore a gauze turban and her wrists were heavily bandaged. Ointment and antiseptic all but covered her face and neck.

She looked at him with a weak smile. "How do I look?"

"You're alive," he said simply, an irrepressible half-smile on his face.

"Yeah," she dropped her eyes, "thanks to you."

He took a step closer, placing his slender hand gently on top of hers. "Even through all," he took a deep breath, "all that…you didn't talk."

"Yeah, well," she pursed her lips, "I decide what I will or won't do." She looked at him, a sparkle in her eyes. "And I won't stop fighting for the people I love."

He swallowed hard, raising his eyebrows on the L-word. "I, just, uh…I thought you were really brave."

She bit her lip sheepishly. "Well, I thought…coming down there to…to save me was pretty brave, too."

His hand lay still on top of hers. Realizing the awkwardness of it all, Reid began to withdraw it. But in response, Lorelei turned her hand over to grasp his long fingers in her own.

"Will you stay with me until we get to the hospital?"

Reid smiled warmly. "I'd be glad to."


	21. Chapter 21Final

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Morgan asked as he and Reid walked past the hospital check-in.

Reid glanced over, crinkling his eyebrows. "I can't just…leave without saying goodbye."

"No, Kid," Morgan shook his head, stepping in front of Reid. "I meant…are you sure you _want_ to say goodbye?"

Reid squinted, confused. "Don't I have to?"

Morgan flashed his signature half-smile. "You definitely _should_. Lord knows this job is hard enough without any relationships." He chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Lorelei's room door. "But sometimes…it's worth it."

Reid swallowed, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. "I'll decide," he nodded, walking past Morgan and pulling open Lorelei's door.

She looked up when she heard the handle. "Hey," she greeted him, folding the book she was reading and laying it across her lap. She had fresh gauze on her wrists and medicated bandages wrapped around her head. The cuts on her face were healing and the dozen or so get-well cards were arranged in a rainbow on the windowsill next to her bed.

"You come to say goodbye?" he asked sadly as she approached.

"H—how you feeling?" he asked, ignoring her question.

She exhaled, glancing over at the get-well cards. "I don't think I'm going to get used to being bald, if that's what you mean."

He laughed nervously. "It, uh…you could get a lot of really nice hats."

She nodded. "That's true."

He stopped at the foot of her bed. "I, I came here to…"

"To leave," she finished. "To say goodbye."

"No," he raised his hands, "no, I wanted to…"

"You shouldn't even be here," she gazed out the window, "there's important stuff you should be doing."

This is important," he insisted, stepping closer to her. "I _know_ what I should do," his voice rose, "but _I_ will decide what I will or won't do."

He grasped one of her hands. "And I won't," he paused, closing his eyes. "I _won't_ forget you."

"Then don't," she said, grabbing the end of his tie. She pulled him in until his face was inches from her own. He stared into her eyes, a mirror image of his own. He leaned forward, awkwardly pursing his lips for a kiss.

"Hand me that pen," she said abruptly, turning away. She took his palm and gently wrote something on it.

"A phone number?" he asked, staring at the black scrawl on his glistening palm.

"Some genius you are," she laughed.

He laughed nervously again. "So…are we—"

"I don't really know what we are," she shook her head. "I was hoping you'd keep talking to me long enough to…to find out."

He bit his lip, sucking in a breath. "I'd like that."

She gave a small smile, leaning back against the pillows. "You still have to leave."

He licked his lip, his copper eyes darting around her face. "Yes…yes I do." He suddenly remembered, reaching into his bag and pulling out the _Spirit of Naz_ t-shirt. "I have your—"

"Keep it," she said, raising a hand. "You could…remember me with it, if you wanted."

He turned it over in his hands. "Oh—okay." He stuffed it back into the bag. "I also brought, uh, something…f—for you to remember me." His hand dove into his pants pocket, retrieving a small photograph and holding it out to her. "You could…keep it."

"Thank you," she said, accepting it. "It's not a bad picture of you." She looked up at him. "I will."

A knock on the door preceded Morgan's voice. "Reid?" he asked, sticking his head in the doorway. "It's time."

Reid nodded. "How're you feeling?" Morgan asked, looking at Lorelei.

She shrugged, answering sarcastically, "I've been better."

Morgan nodded. "Get some rest," he said, adding to Reid, "couple more minutes," and pulling the door closed.

"I'll, uh," Reid scratched the back of his neck. "I'll give you a call…s—sometime."

"Sounds good," she said, uncovering her legs. Seeing his started expression, she added, "Oh, relax—I've been lying in this bed for two days. I can at least give you a proper hug goodbye."

His muscles tensed involuntarily as she stood up. "It's not really goodbye, though," she said, gripping his upper arms. "It's really more of a _See-you-later_."

He smiled, gently kissing her forehead. "See you later," he said softly.

She released him and he strode to the door. He wanted to leave quickly, before the burning in his throat and the sinking feeling in his chest overcame him.

"Spencer," he heard her say. She was right behind him when he turned around.

He almost fell over when she threw her arms around him. He found her mouth with his own, wrapping his slender arms around her waist.

Morgan knocked again. "Reid?"

He did not stop when he heard the door open, didn't let her go.

"Good decision, Pretty Boy."

"Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven." Matthew 5:10


End file.
